


season of the witch

by fresh96



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Gen, I will add tags as they become relevant - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, blood kink if you squint, hisoka being a douche, illumi not understanding how to deal with emotion, nen sortve translates into magic in this, probably violence later if i can teach myself to write it, they ARE in love but you could read it as platonic if you wanted to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresh96/pseuds/fresh96
Summary: In Coburg, people loved to talk. Especially those that had nothing else to do. People of class talked about music and fashions and, once they had a few drinks in them, they spread gossip like butter on bread. Often, this gossip was of Illumi.
Relationships: Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	season of the witch

In Coburg, people loved to talk. Especially those that had nothing else to do. People of class talked about music and fashions and, once they had a few drinks in them, they spread gossip like butter on bread. Often, this gossip was of Illumi. 

Illumi Zoldyck was 24, the sole survivor and heir of the Zoldyck family, and one of the richest men in the bishopric who didn’t have a formal title. He wasn’t married (cause for gossip, at his age), and his only known companion was another man (further cause for gossip, though nothing too insidious, he always made sure). At a glance he didn’t fit in either. Where other men in the area had begun curling their hair tightly, and sporting pointy goatees, Illumi had long, almost waist-length hair that he usually wore straight down, or braided, and his face was completely clean shaven. There was more that made him stand out, Illumi knew, like his wide, unflinching eyes and stoic affect, but he went into town as infrequently as he could to keep chatter to a minimum. Despite his complete lack of conformity, Illumi wanted to draw as little attention as possible to himself and his life; he had so much to hide. 

What those people in town weren’t aware of, or only dared to imagine once in the safety of their own beds each night, was that Illumi was a witch. His whole family had been, for generations, and he was nothing if not loyal to his family. 

Witchcraft wasn’t what The Church claimed it was, for the most part. There was no devil involved, no sabbats, and, for many, no actual magic. Most just brewed potions with common herbs. Not for the Zoldycks though, and not for Illumi. For them, and few others, magic was very real and useful. ‘Magic is like fire,’ Illumi’s father had told him when he was small, ‘Used correctly, you can use it to conquer the world. But even the smallest misplaced ember can burn your house to the ground.’ The Zoldycks _had_ used magic to conquer the world, as far as Illumi was concerned; their wealth and property were direct results of using their abilities to gain more power, one way or another. A small spell here or there could influence minds more resolute than even the most devout Bishop. Illumi, though, was now alone in the world, and although he strove to listen to his father’s wisdoms, there was a hesitancy within him to practice anymore. In the present he seldom did magic, and never put any spells on people who knew his face. What little magic he practiced was for himself or Hisoka, in the privacy of his own home, and was more often than not accompanied by painful and horrific flashes of memory that left him in agony. He did not know what bound his magic like this, but with no elder to consult Illumi simply refrained from magic unless it was and absolute necessity. What left Illumi had in the world was here, in Coburg, so here he would like to stay. 

The night of the First of October, Illumi was sitting fireside, basking in the warm air and leafing through an old spellbook. It was his great-grandfather’s, if he wasn’t mistaken, and though it must have been over one hundred years old, the pages weren’t brittle in the slightest, a reminder that though he may be gone, Maha’s magic lived on. Each time Illumi touched a page within the book, the area around his finger would glow. From what Illumi remembered of his studies, this was the book recognizing Illumi’s latent magic and connecting it to the magic that Maha had imbued in the book to protect it. Should a witch from another family, or even a commoner, attempt to turn the pages of this particular book, the tome would set itself ablaze. A terrible loss that would be, but a necessary one to keep Zoldyck secrets to the Zoldycks. Beside him, his companion, Hisoka, sharpened his nails. 

“They burnt a woman in town today.” Hisoka commented idly, as if it were the most usual occurrence in the world (in some ways, it was). “The Prince Bishop has some lackeys combing the city for evidence of witches, and I suppose she has the mark.” Illumi didn’t respond beyond a puff of air from his lips.

“Aren’t you even a little unsettled? The witch hunters haven’t been so near here before. Maybe we should stir up some trouble and unsettle _them_.” Hisoka continued, pausing his manicure to inspect his new talons with slight vexation. _Not sharp enough_ , Illumi suspected. He’d been around Hisoka long enough to know.

“I’m not in the business of allowing myself to be tortured and burned and the stake, Hisoka.” Illumi admonished and stared blankly at his friend over the cover of his book. Hisoka stared back, eyes glinting gold in the firelight. The pair had met when Illumi was only 12, and Hisoka 16. Raised in the country, and dirt poor, Hisoka had decided to start fresh in the city, but not before killing his entire family gruesomely. Illumi had unwisely used magic to free Hisoka from the custody of The Church. His father had beaten him for that, but Illumi knew that leaving the other boy there would have been a death sentence, and there had been something in Hisoka’s eyes the moment they met that had forced his hand. After that, they had grown up together, though Illumi’s family regarded Hisoka with very poorly disguised contempt, and after many years Hisoka was now the only person in the world who would ever be privy to Illumi’s thoughts. Although Hisoka had no talent in spellcasting, his very soul was a wellspring of magical power. Where it came from, Illumi was unsure. Hisoka was certain that his family had not been witches, even in the most basic of ways, so Illumi’s father, Silva, had declared Hisoka an aberration and never given him a second thought. Because of this, Hisoka wandered where he pleased, although he usually kept close to Illumi. Illumi was not quite as sure as his father had been, regarding Hisoka (Illumi was never sure where Hisoka was concerned). His tenure at the Zoldyck manor had been marked by avoidance and disgust by most members of the family, and despite this Hisoka soaked up magic and magical ideas faster than anyone Illumi knew, which was saying something considering his family had prided themselves on being made up of nothing but prodigies. During Illumi’s lessons as a child, Hisoka would sit idly in the corner, paying no attention to anything that was being taught, but later would reveal an understanding of the material that rivaled Illumi’s own.

“I do so love that emotionless veil of yours when you’re all stirred up.” Hisoka rose from his seat and laid himself over Illumi’s lap, stretching carefully, not unlike a cat. Illumi hemmed in an attempt to assuage Hisoka’s persistent chattering, but ultimately set his book aside and stroked Hisoka’s head tenderly. 

“Hisoka, I’m not doing magic with the express purpose of incensing nearby witch hunters.” As he spoke, Illumi’s fingers drifted over Hisoka’s, and he allowed the smallest bit of magic to pour out and cover the other man’s hands. Within moments, Hisoka’s hand was glowing the faintest golden hue, not unlike the sunrise. Hisoka shifted his position to look better at the magic his companion was weaving and let out a breathy laugh.

“Dearest, they should be so lucky as to watch you cast a single spell, even if it ends their miserable lives. Watching you do magic is like watching a lion deal the death blow to its prey… It is impossible to look away.” His voice quivered and gave way to a sigh, breath warm on Illumi’s leg. Illumi finished the spell, dragging his hand up away from Hisoka’s and tousling it back into Hisoka’s hair. Hisoka lifted one of his hands to examine the new addition; shiny, razor sharp metal now capped his already vicious looking nails. “You really do know me so well don’t you, love?”

Illumi grimaced at Hisoka and tugged on his hair lightly before returning to his petting motion. “Yes, I do, which means you ought to know that I won’t be changing my mind about this. You know how magic makes me feel.”

“And yet…” Hisoka gestured vaguely with his hand, “You’re fine now, aren’t you? And you’ve just done magic for me.”

“That’s different. It didn’t require any skill.”

“It wouldn’t require any skill for me to gut the entire town like a fish either.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Hisoka glanced up at Illumi before rolling languidly onto his back, neck extended and exposed. He reached one pointed finger up to Illumi’s throat and pushed just hard enough for a tiny pin drop’s worth of blood to pool. “It would take me the same amount of effort to kill you now as it would take me to massacre the entire city.” As he spoke his finger pushed harder, and Illumi instinctively leaned away before Hisoka’s other hand reached up and gently caught him by the neck. Chills ran down Illumi’s spine as Hisoka increased the pressure ever so slightly more. Hisoka’s gaze burned into his own; in his periphery, he could see his own blood meander down Hisoka’s hand and plop gently onto the floor beside them. “Aren’t you going to try and get away darling?”

_Should,_ Illumi’s brain fizzled quietly, as if he was a thousand miles away. “No.” His own voice whispered raggedly, traitorously.

“Why? Are you too afraid? I think I might be stronger than you.” Blood was beginning to pour down Hisoka’s arm, soaking their clothing and the chair and covering the floor around them.

“Get off, Hisoka.” Illumi’s voice was still disappointingly weak and he could see it in Hisoka’s expression.

“Make me, dearest.” Hisoka’s eyes brightened again, impossibly, and with that Illumi could see his own reflection in them; his visage was dark and unflinching, emotionless. He could see no magic in his own eyes, not the way that magic was in Hisoka’s eyes, or melting out of Hisoka’s every pore. There was nothing there. A void.

In a split second, Illumi was across the room, gasping raggedly as he put his hand on the now sizeable wound that Hisoka had borne into his neck. His magic, mist grey this time, whispered around the edges of the wound, diagnosing and treating in equal measure. By the fire place, Hisoka stared at him, concern creasing his brow despite his intimidation only moments previously. Illumi grasped the wall for support, fingers digging too deeply into the wood, waiting for the magic to finish its job before calling it back and breathing deeply. No sooner had the wound healed and his magic been called home, though, then Illumi felt time grind to an excruciating halt. Around him, the air felt heavy and cold, smothering; impossible to breathe. Hisoka’s gaze from across the room no longer felt like a comforting presence. It felt piercing and menacing and when he looked into Hisoka’s eyes for comfort he found nothing. Ice raced through his veins, piercing his heart deeply, freezing his arms and legs in place. Everything around him was cold and unforgiving and wrong. He did not live here. He could hear someone speaking to him, but he couldn’t tell who it was. Across the room, Hisoka’s mouth was moving slowly but the words reaching Illumi’s ears did not belong to him. In fact, nothing about the Hisoka across the room belonged to him. He was not Hisoka. Not-Hisoka stood smoothly and strode toward him, too quickly, quicker than should have been possible, and Illumi stumbled backward, falling gracelessly onto the wood flooring. Not-Hisoka continued speaking to him but all Illumi could hear now was the ringing of church bells and screaming so piercing it was not unlike the sound a tree makes when burned alive. Magic dripped off of Illumi, as if fleeing, a green ooze like a long-infected wound. Words, still coming from Not-Hisoka’s mouth, managed to reach Illumi’s ears between the gongs of the bells. 

“Dearest… for antagonizing you… play… how I am.”

Not-Hisoka reached toward him hand outstretched, Illumi’s blood still dripping from his arm and at the thought of this stranger touching him, Illumi _screamed_. His magic, dark, bloody purple, no longer oozing but incensed, infuriated, radiated from Illumi’s body spreading to every corner of the room and rattling the foundation of the house. The walls warped and bent and Not-Hisoka ducked to avoid the tidal wave before pulling Illumi into his arms tightly. Still screaming, Illumi’s body seized viciously and Illumi screwed his eyes shut, scrabbling to get away. Not-Hisoka held tight. Belatedly, Illumi realized he could no longer hear the church bells but instead he heard a mantra. _It’s me_ , he thought, speaking to Not-Hisoka, pleading with him. “You promised you wouldn’t, you know how I feel…” Illumi could hear it clearer now, his own voice, chanting, over and over, but he couldn’t feel himself move to make the words, nor could he feel himself move to grab Hisoka more tightly, twisting in his grasp until they were chest to chest.

“Listen to my heartbeat.” Hisoka commanded, not gruffly, but lovingly and gently, like a summer breeze commands the leaves to move. Illumi complied. The thump of Hisoka’s heart was not quiet, but strong, and fortified, and all the things Illumi loved to hear. His magic, lake blue, plopped off him like fat tears, rolling across his body and falling to the floor wetly before melting away completely. “I’m sorry, dearest.” Hisoka’s voice whispered across his face and Illumi took a deep breath.

“I know.”

A quiet moment, and then, “I’m not antagonizing the witch hunters.”

Hisoka giggled a little, perhaps maniacally. “You look beautiful like that, you know?”

Illumi’s head lolled in Hisoka’s arms and he looked up at the other man’s face. “How do I look?”

“Vengeful. Godlike. Invincible. Indestructible.”

“Terrified.” Illumi regarded his companion, his oldest friend, for a moment, taking him all in. “Your magic…”

“Yes?”

“It’s pink.” Illumi had not seen Hisoka manifest his magic so clearly before. He didn’t often need it. He had no talent for spellcasting, like Illumi, and any magic he did was usually transformative, so the magic wasn’t usually seen. Of course, 90% of the time Illumi used him like his own personal magic store, tapping into Hisoka’s power when he could no longer (or would no longer) use his own. Now though, Hisoka was glowing, faintly, haloed in a sticky pink magic. Magic that was slowly covering Illumi and taking in the rest of Illumi’s own leftover magic and turning that a faint pink too.

“It is isn’t it?”

“I like it.” Illumi concluded, a bit childishly, and then with an air of finality, allowing a bit of magic to leak through and purple his eyes, “I am _not_ antagonizing the witch hunters.”

Hisoka cackled at that, maniacally again, and lifted Illumi off the floor, starting off toward their bedroom. “We will see.”

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place sometime between 1626 and 1630 during the Würzburg witch trials in the Holy Roman Empire (Germany). I got most of my information about this period from the podcast The History of Witchcraft, although I also did some extensive googling that didn't actually need to be done but I wanted it to be. So here are my like, authors notes I guess that sit at the top of my document for this fic and remind me what I'm trying to write about.
> 
> This takes place during the Würzburg witch panic but like not in Würzburg because I didn't want to deal with the implications of writing about a real city that still exists, so I picked a different real city but one that is smaller. I think. It at least definitely was at the time. Coburg (where our story takes place) is on the very edge of the diocese of the same Prince Bishop that controls Wurzburg, if I'm not mistaken. The maps I was looking at though were from 1780 with is a full almost 150 years after this fic takes place so who knows. A diocese is a district under the care of a bishop of the christian church where he exercises spiritual authority (and a hochstift is also under his care but is smaller and the bishop is the martial ruler as well of the spiritual ruler. Usually a hochstift is referred to as a prince-bishopric in english (because the bishop ruling them was called a Prince Bishop)). I think. If you know this period of history well leave me comment because trying to untangle centuries old church shit is genuinely the most confusing thing I've ever had to do. The point is there is a lot of grey area in this fic and I'm an amateur historian.
> 
> Mens fashion during this period is almost too ugly to look at except their undershirts are sexy which is what inspired this fic. If you're interested about historically accurate fashion for this fic this is the main website I looked at https://fashionhistory.fitnyc.edu/1630-1639/  
> I think Illumi in this fic generally looks like this https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AbKYHkrRJx0/U7wD2pEdeZI/AAAAAAAAAqc/tZ2KByFbMOs/s1600/tumblr_mnonowhD1J1r3ifxzo1_500.png except imagine it a little more historically accurate, and when he goes into town he's wearing stuff that's super period appropriate (and ugly). Also imagine https://twitter.com/leviswaifuuu/status/1260252505964978176?s=20 which are so not period appropriate but they are sexy and that's what I want. Its my pseudo-historical deeply researched au and what I say GOES.
> 
> This au also takes place in a magical world where Illumi has already learned how to feel feelings (but not how to process them so he still generally avoids feeling if he can) so when he does that please accept it thank you. 
> 
> My deepest thanks goes to néohs (@hydeless on twitter) who I annoy constantly and who has to suffer through me complaining about how much I hate writing. Please read their stuff its sexy and I have insider knowledge that the thing they're writing right now is actually God. 
> 
> Come annoy me on twitter if you want @dykeyibo I do not tweet about anything of substance.


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